The Paper Angel
by bad-wolf-and-her-lonely-angel
Summary: Rose Tyler is an artist. She draws things, places, people that don't exist. That's what they tell her, anyway. But she knows they are real, especially the man who appears in her dreams as well as on paper, the one she calls her guardian angel. She's just waiting for the day her angel comes to take her away. AU. Rose/Ten.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, here it is. My new Doctor Who AU fic! Enjoy, review, all that good stuff. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon. Keep an eye out for another oneshot that I'm working on right now :)**

**Pairing: Rose/Ten**

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_**Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.**_

* * *

**The Paper Angel**

**Chapter One**

* * *

There had never been a time in her life that Rose Tyler had felt more satisfied than when she was drawing. Ever since she was a child, she would spend her free hours with a notebook and some sort of writing utensil in her tiny little hands. First, it was a variety of brightly colored crayons; as she grew, she moved on to pencils, colored or otherwise; soon, she was experimenting with paints and oils and all sorts of different mediums. Most of her birthday money over the years was spent on new sketchpads and pencils. Now, at age nineteen, Rose would come home from her job at a department shop and lock herself in her room to draw up whatever wild creations she had daydreamed while at work. She would often stay in her bedroom, which substituted as a studio, until the late hours of the evening, usually missing dinner with her mother and father. She would only emerge once or twice, maybe to grab an apple from the fruit bowl after Jackie made her wash her hands thoroughly. Rose wore her long, blonde hair in a ponytail, messily tied to the back of her head, and dressed herself in old t-shirts and ripped pairs of jeans. Her skin was always stained grey with charcoal or graphite, and her clothing was always covered in dark streaks where she would wipe her hands when she finished a sketch.

Rose's father always told her what an incredible imagination she had. Before bedtime, little Rose would help Pete tell her bedtime stories, which never failed to astound both her parents. They were full of creatures that Rose seemed to create out of nowhere, names of imaginary places and people appearing on the tip of her tongue. Every night was a new adventure for all three of them. "You have galaxies inside your head, love," Pete would tell her as he tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "Entire universes, just waiting to be thought up." Whenever she was asked where she got these wonderful and vivid ideas of her made-up worlds, Rose would only reply, "Oh, they're not made-up. They're all very, very real. I can feel them inside of me."

It wasn't long before the imagination spilled over into her art. For the past decade of her life, Rose's walls had been plastered with her sketches, somewhat of a real-time art gallery, showing how beautifully her drawing skills improved over the years. She never took any down, or threw any away, and her parents knew better than to touch the thousands of pieces of paper that had been pinned to the walls. The drawings continued to stack up until not a single trace of the flowered wallpaper of Rose's youth could be seen beneath them. Some of her more treasured drawings she hung from the ceiling with clear fishing wire, dangling down at different lengths and spinning gently whenever she moved about the room. The subjects of her drawings were ever-changing but always interesting. A young boy with a gas mask covering his face. Statues of angels, their hands covering their faces. Alien monsters with terrifying features, armies of robots, the face of a beautiful woman stretched flat like a canvas. People with the heads of cats, creatures with tentacles where their mouths should be, holding glowing orbs of light. Sometimes she drew people. There was a small, dark-skinned girl, who Rose fondly referred to as the soldier. Another she would draw from time to time was a fiery woman with lovely red hair. She rather liked both of these two. Other times, it was a younger man, very handsome and strong. He was the con man, the agent, the flirt. Some days it was a woman with a mass of curly hair, the time child. There were a few others who graced the pages on the walls, among them the ones Rose called the sparrow, the fireplace girl, the concrete woman and her caretaker, and someone named Harriet Jones. Very often the subject of her art was a tall contraption she called the blue box. Rectangular and rather small, Rose drew the box hurtling through a starry sky as often as she drew it sitting on solid ground.

There was one particular subject, however, that Rose found herself drawing more often than anything. A man. But he was much more than that. He was an angel. Rose's parents had found this odd, when one day their ten-year-old daughter had come running, bearing a piece of paper and saying "Look, Mum, look, Dad, I drew the angel!" Much to their surprise, the angel did not have wings, or a halo, nor was he dressed in white. He didn't even look remotely god-like. Rather, he was just a plain man, with a goofy smile and very large ears. But Rose had insisted that he was indeed an angel, and he appeared in her art frequently after that first time. Rose herself was taken with this man. She was always the most proud of her angel drawings, the way his forehead creased just so, and how his leather jacket always seemed to fit perfectly over his chest. Yes, he was her favorite.

After a while, Rose stopped drawing that man altogether, after one sketch where his usually blue eyes were filled with fire. She began to draw someone else; although she claimed it was the same man, the angel, just in a different form. She began to pay close attention to the details of the angel: some days she would draw his face, other days he was pictured from the waist down. The man was always dressed in the same brown pinstriped suit. Rose had drawn everything from a close-up of his collar, folded around the pale skin of his neck, to a white sneaker, laces peeking out from under a neatly hemmed trouser leg. She would focus on his eyes, deep and intense, which seemed to always be asking a question, one eyebrow furrowed as if in a state of incredible concentration. Sometimes it was his nose, slightly crooked and dotted with light freckles, or his shock of messy dark hair, or even the sharp, bold lines of his jaw, his lips pursed, neither frowning nor smiling. A few times it was his hands, with his long, slender fingers, holding a device that looked similar to a screwdriver, or stuffed deep into his pockets with an aura of nonchalance. Once, though she didn't know why, she drew him standing with his face and hands pressed against a wall, a single tear running down his cheek. This was her least favorite, though; she didn't like to see her angel sad. No matter what part of him she drew, the angel was always present in her art. She loved these drawings of the angel so much that she began to hang them from the ceiling. Rose almost felt as if the angel in her drawings was protecting her. From what, she wasn't sure, but he was certainly looking over her.

There were some drawings that she didn't hang anywhere in her room, though. She didn't want anyone to see, not even her parents. These were the ones where she drew herself with the angel. Whether she was standing with him outside the blue box, or whether he held her in a tight embrace, or whether the two of them stood facing each other on a beautiful beach, these were her private drawings. In her dreams at night, she would see him coming to take her away on adventures, falling through the stars to show her incredible things that only she had the imagination to believe. When she woke, she would grab the nearest piece of paper and writing utensil and draw what she had seen. One night right after her eighteenth birthday, she remembered very clearly. She awoke around 4 AM and drew the favorite sketch that she had ever done. The angel had his lips pressed against hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. (Rose kept this drawing under her pillow, crumpled as it got from so many nights of her sleeping with it clutched in her hands.)

All her drawings of these beautiful worlds seemed to flow out of her like some sort of magic. There was not a single day she went without drawing, not a single night she went without dreaming of new places, new worlds to explore. She fell asleep every night, holding her favorite drawing tight to her chest, hoping that maybe someday, her angel would come for her.

* * *

"No, no, no!" Rose moaned as a draft from the open window blew what looked like hundreds of her drawings around the room in a paper tornado. She ducked to avoid one flying at her head, and dropping the charcoal stick she was holding, she stood up and began snatching papers out of the air. Realizing the inefficiency of this method while the breeze was still blowing, she ran over to the wall behind her bed and shoved the window down so it was halfway closed. As the rest of the papers settled down, drifting from the air onto the floor, she began to walk around, collecting them in her arms and pinning them back to her wall where they belonged. She maneuvered her way around the ones hanging from the ceiling, which were spinning madly in circles. Every so often as she passed she would catch a glimpse of a mouth smiling at her or a pair of eyes glancing in her direction as the papers turned. She smiled. Rose loved to feel her artwork looking down her, keeping watch over her. Sometimes the drawings just felt so real.

As soon as the sketches had all been returned to their usual places, Rose turned back to the drawing she had left unfinished on the floor. "Damn it!" she shouted, noticing that the charcoal she had dropped had landed perfectly on top of the paper, leaving a dark smudge right in the middle of the face she had been drawing. She dropped down on her hands and knees, trying to blend the spot into the rest of the drawing, but she soon discovered that it was a lost cause. Angry, she crumpled up the paper into a ball and threw it at the trash bin next to her desk. She groaned with frustration when the paper bounced off the rim and rolled a few feet away. Grabbing it, she placed it not so gently in the bin, and gave her desk a kick for good measure. She had really liked the drawing she was working on. She liked all of her drawings of the angel, of course, but this one in particular was better than usual. It was his whole face. It had been so good, with his cheekbones perfectly shaded, his eyes with incredible depth, the gentle flip of his hair just right. This time he had been wearing glasses. She really liked it when he wore his glasses… in her dreams, of course. That was really the only time she saw him.

Just as she had grabbed a new sheet from her sketchpad and sat down to start again, there was a knock at her door. "Yeah," she replied distractedly. The door creaked as it opened slowly to reveal Jackie Tyler peeking in.

"Rose, honey," Jackie spoke in a soft voice.

Rose didn't even look up from her paper, her right hand creating long, deft strokes with the pencil as she wiped her forehead with her other hand. She didn't notice the grey streak it left across her skin.

Jackie sighed, propping the door open a little more and leaning against the frame. "Rose, I think you need to get out of this room some more." Rose grunted in response, not processing her mother's words. "Lately it's all you've been doing, sitting in here alone, drawing your pictures." Again, Rose was quiet, still focused on the angle of the man's jaw that she was working on. "Rose, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, mum, I'm listening. I just want to finish this one, and then I promise I'll go out."

Jackie folded her arms across her chest. "Mickey's here. He wants to know if you would go out with him tonight." Rose sighed. Mickey was her boyfriend, if you could even call what they had a romantic relationship. Between both of their jobs and Rose's art, they only got to see each other a few times a week, usually on short dates when their lunch breaks matched up. She knew she should probably make a better attempt to see him more often, but honestly, she couldn't really be bothered. But as much as she really didn't want to go, she hated making her mother disappointed.

"Sure," she said, standing to put the unfinished drawing on her desk and replacing the stick of charcoal in its box. "I need to clean up, tell him I'll be out in a few minutes, yeah?" She instinctively reached up to tighten her ponytail.

"Yeah," Jackie smiled. She walked over and placed her hands on Rose's shoulders. "Trust me, Rosie. It'll be good for you."

Rose lifted the corner of her mouth in a half-smile. "I know, mum." Jackie wiped at the charcoal smudge on Rose's forehead before leaning in to kiss it gently.

"Now, go on, you've got a boy waiting!" She tapped Rose's backside lightly with her hand before turning and shutting the door behind her. Rose giggled as she walked into the bathroom and shed her dirty clothing. She climbed into the shower, closing her eyes and letting the hot water beat over her skin, scrubbing away the evidence of the work she had done that day.

When she was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a hoodie, with her wet hair tied up in a ponytail, Rose emerged into the sitting room where Mickey and her parents were sitting. They were watching some reality show on the television and having tea. He jumped up as soon as he saw her, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, Mick," she greeted him. "Ready to go?"

"Sure, yeah," he said, grinning. "Thanks for the tea, Jackie. I'll have her back before midnight, Pete!" Rose barely had time to shout a quick goodbye before Mickey took her hand and pulled her towards the door.

"Finally, Rose! Ugh, it's been such a long time since we've had a nice, proper date. I mean, yeah, we had lunch on Tuesday for, like, thirty minutes, but it's Friday night and we haven't been to the pub in weeks. Does that sound okay, the pub? I mean, there's a game on tonight but we don't have to watch it, we could just go to the ice cream shop or to a film or something. I really don't care, I'm just glad we finally have time to go out, you know?" Rose wasn't listening as Mickey babbled on, just nodding every few seconds when she felt it was appropriate. Only when he asked a question that actually required her to answer did she fully engage herself in the conversation (mind you, it was after he asked three times).

Rose was so busy trying to keep up with Mickey's monologue that she almost didn't hear the quiet warble coming from the alley they had just passed. She stopped walking and held a finger up to quiet Mickey. "What?" he asked loudly, standing a few feet ahead of Rose. "What?" he repeated when she didn't answer.

"Did you hear that?" she asked. "That sound, did you hear it?" She was turned toward the alleyway, staring at it intently.

"What sound, Rose? I didn't hear any sound. Come on, let's just go." Mickey sounded exasperated. Rose didn't listen though, taking a few cautious steps toward the alley. "Rose! It was nothing. Really, we're almost at the pub. Come on."

Rose stood still for one more moment, before sighing and turning back to Mickey. "You're right," she said, still trying to convince herself that he really was. "It was nothing. Sorry, let's go." She took his hand, and he immediately started towards the pub, which was on the opposite side of the street. Rose looked back once, but seeing nothing, she shook her head and tried to turn her attention back to her boyfriend.

She only just missed the flash of a long, brown trench coat as it disappeared around the corner.

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**A/N: Let me know what you think in the reviews! Like I said, second chapter coming soon, as well as the appearance of the Doctor. Thanks for reading!**

**bad-wolf-and-her-lonely-angel**

**Stuff from New-Who mentioned in this chapter: The Empty Children, Weeping Angels, Cybermen/Daleks, Cassandra, Cat-People, the Ood, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Captain Jack Harkness, River Song, Sally Sparrow, Madame du Pompadour, Ursula Blake and Elton Pope, Harriet Jones, and the TARDIS. Of course the guardian angel is the Doctor, who Rose portrays in both the Ninth and Tenth incarnations.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey everyone! Here's chapter two :) Hope you enjoy, tell me what you think in the reviews! And if you want, check out my other DW fics. Thanks for reading! Love you all.**

**bad-wolf-and-her-lonely-angel**

**Pairing: Rose/Ten**

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_**Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.**_

* * *

**The Paper Angel**

**Chapter Two**

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Rose arrived home from her date, leaving Mickey at the door. It was nearly midnight. They had spent the evening sitting in the pub, watching the game that was on. It was fun, yeah, but it took so much for her to act interested, and now she was tired. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep. She slipped off her shoes in the hall and walked into the kitchen. "Mum, dad, I'm home!" she shouted into the house as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard to get some water. She could hear the sound of the television in the next room, but no one answered her. "Hello?" she asked. "Anyone there?"

"Rose? Is that you?" That was her mum's voice, and it sounded concerned. Rose turned off the tap and took a sip of her water before Jackie came hurtling into the room, eyes wide. "Rose!" she shouted, hugging her daughter tight. "Why didn't you answer any of my calls? I thought you were gone, I thought they took you, I was so scared-"

"Mom!" Rose cut her off. "I left my phone here, I just thought if I needed one I could use Mickey's. But what are you going on about? It's not even midnight yet, it's not like I was out later than usual!"

Jackie shook her head. "Come see what they're saying on the telly." She led Rose into the living room, where Pete was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Jackie sat next to him while Rose stayed near the doorway and they looked at the television.

It was turned to the news, Rose saw. A young, dark-haired reporter was speaking, her tone serious. "Three more disappearances have been cited by the police, reported earlier this evening, bringing the total number of people missing to 7. So far the investigation as to what is causing these disappearances has been unsuccessful. We are advising all residents of London to be cautious and stay in groups when outside of the house." Jackie was standing now, looking terrified. She tackled Rose in another hug.

"Oh, Rose, I was so worried, I'm so glad you're here…" She went on, almost in tears, still embracing Rose. She just patted Jackie's back, trying to comfort her.

"Mum, I'm fine, really, you can stop crying now." Rose stepped away from her mother's arms. Jackie sniffed and sat back down on the couch, holding Pete's hand. "I'm just going to go to bed, okay? Don't worry; I'm sure the police will have it figured out soon." She tried to sound confident, but she was pretty scared, too. She hoped that whatever was going on would end soon.

Rose wandered off back to her bedroom, glass of water half-empty in her hand. She set it on her bedside table and took her pajamas out of her dresser. Turning towards the bathroom to change, she noticed something odd. On the wall opposite her bed, there was a blank sheet of paper tacked on top of all the other drawings. It was from her sketchpad, too—same paper as the rest of her artwork. That hadn't been there when she left the house earlier in the evening. She called her parents. Of course, Jackie came running, opening the door almost immediately after Rose yelled for her.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jackie asked, her eyes darting around the room to look for whatever kidnappers or criminals she was expecting, Pete walking up behind her to look as well.

Rose just kept staring at that piece of paper. "Nothing's wrong, mum. Just… did you put that paper on my wall?" She pointed. That wall was the one Rose had dedicated to the creatures of her fantasies. That particular section with the blank sheet had held the pictures of the crying statues, the ones who covered their faces with their hands.

Jackie shook her head. "No, I didn't touch it."

"Dad?" Rose asked, looking to Pete. He shrugged his shoulders. How strange, Rose thought warily. She glanced over to her desk. The unfinished drawing of the guardian angel was still there, her box of charcoals right where she had left it. The window above her bed was still open to where she had left it before, enough to let in air, but not enough to allow a person to climb through. Literally everything else in the room had gone untouched. There was no way that anyone had gotten in to put that piece of paper there. Maybe she had accidentally put it up backwards today when the wind had blown all the drawings off the wall. Yes, that had to be it. She walked to the wall, unpinning the paper and flipping it over. But no, it was blank, except for a thin, black line that stretched diagonally from the top left corner to the bottom right. Definitely not something Rose had drawn. This was too weird.

She turned back to her parents. "I must have pinned it up earlier today and just forgot. Never mind. Good night!" Rose waved her parents off and shut the door behind them. She sat on her bed, the paper in her hands, studying the black line on the back. She rubbed at it, but it did not smear. That was strange. It was completely permanent. She just couldn't understand how it had gotten there. Who would have been able to get inside her house while she was gone? They didn't come through her window, and there was absolutely no possibility that they could have come through the front with Jackie and Pete home all night long. Rose was terrified. She turned and shut the window all the way, locking it for good measure.

Rose took the paper and shoved it deep in a drawer in her desk. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought. After changing into her pajamas, she checked the locks on the window again, as well as her door. No way was anyone getting in here again. Tucked in under the covers, Rose tried desperately to sleep, but found herself lying with her eyes open. Everything about this was all so weird. Seven people from London had gone missing, and then unusual things started appearing in her bedroom. The two weren't connected, obviously, Rose tried to convince herself. That would just be ridiculous. She reached under her pillow to grab the drawing of her and the guardian angel kissing, holding it tight. Deep in thought, her eyes went to the ceiling, watching the papers that were hanging there spin gently the way they always did. She felt herself gradually relaxing, feeling a little bit safer looking at those drawings. Her angel was watching over her, he would keep her safe.

One of the papers that hung over her bed turned towards her, though, and she gasped. Had it been her imagination, or was that sheet blank? She was sure that the drawing of the angel had just vanished. Rose jumped out of bed and flipped the lights on, looking up at the paper. But no, he was still there, standing in his brown pinstriped suit looking thoughtful, exactly the way she had drawn it. She watched it turn for a moment longer, making sure that when it circled around again, he was still there. Skeptically, she shut off the lights and laid back down, her eyes following the motion of the paper. Had she gone completely mental? Thinking these thoughts and watching the angel who was watching over her, Rose slowly drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

"_Rose!" A voice was calling. "Rose, look, over here!" Rose turned to find the angel standing not too far away from her. He was inside the blue box, leaning out and beckoning to her, motioning for her to come to him. She began to run towards him, longing to feel his embrace again like she always did in her dreams. But it seemed no matter how fast she tried to run, she never got any closer. Was he getting farther away? No, he was in the same place, reaching out for her just as much as she was for him. He just kept calling her name, and she kept running. Slowly, he started to fade, his image beginning to disappear until the blue box was completely gone, taking the angel with it._

"_Wait!" she screamed, still running. "Come back!" She had no idea where she was. Everything was white—she didn't know if there were walls or a ceiling or even a floor, and if there was, she could not distinguish between any of them. Collapsing, she began to cry, curling up on whatever the surface below her was._

_Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see the angel bent over with his face very, very close to hers. "Rose, listen to me," he spoke in an urgent, hushed tone. "They're coming."_

"_W-who's coming?" Rose stuttered. None of this made any sense!_

_He kept going as if he hadn't even heard her question. "They're coming, Rose, and you have to stop them."_

_Rose was shocked. "Me? But… how? How am I supposed to stop them?"_

_Again, the angel didn't answer, but just continued as if not hearing her responses. "I'm doing everything I can, but it's up to you, Rose Tyler. You're the only one who can destroy them!"_

"_I don't know how!" Rose yelled, tears streaming down her face._

"_They're already starting to come through. Hurry, Rose. Hurry, before it's too late!" He then grabbed the sides of her face, planting a quick but passionate kiss on her lips, and then he was gone._

_His voice lingered, echoing through the room even though he was nowhere to be seen. "Oh, Rose, by the way…"_

Rose awoke with a start, panting and sweating, and she sat up in her bed. She looked up and the drawing shehad fallen asleep watching and bit back a scream. The angel was gone. The paper was blank, in fact, except for the long, diagonal line that stretched across the back. Where the picture had been, two words had been hastily written in a messy, cursive scrawl.

_Don't blink._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's the third chapter! Hope you enjoy. Please review and tell me what you think! Also, you can follow me on Tumblr for updates and spoilers and sneak peeks and stuff. My URL is particularly-instantaneous. I follow back more often than not :) Thank you for reading!**

**Pairing: Rose/Ten**

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**__****Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.**

* * *

**The Paper Angel**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Rose paced back and forth across her bedroom, the piece of paper from her ceiling in hand. _Don't blink._ What did that even mean? Was she actually supposed to keep her eyes completely open all the time? That was impossible. _Don't blink. Don't blink._ Those two words kept staring at her, taunting her. Was this some sort of joke? If this was one of her friends playing a prank on her, she was going to be so angry. But she had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her this was absolutely real.

Sighing, Rose opened her desk drawer and put this paper on top of the one that the other angel had disappeared from. Wait a second. The angels. Both of the drawings that had disappeared were angels, leaving the same black line across the back. There had to be some sort of connection there. She looked up at the drawings hanging from the ceiling. All normal. None of them had moved from their original positions. Turning towards the wall with the creatures, Rose approached the angels warily. They all had their head in their hands, hiding their faces. Scanning across the couple drawings pinned on top, everything looked fine. All clear, thought Rose.

And then she blinked.

Suddenly, one of the angels did not have their head in their hands. Rose looked closer. Yes, the angel was now standing with its arms down by its sides, looking directly at Rose with a piercing glare. But that was impossible. Drawings did not simply move around once they were drawn! Then again, Rose had seen two of her drawings disappear completely, and people in London were missing, so at this point, it was kind of hard not to believe this.

Blink.

There it was again! A second angel had its hands down now, and the first one looked as if it had moved closer to Rose, reaching out towards her. Both of them were staring into her eyes. So now she understood: _don't blink_ had meant exactly that. She had to keep her eyes on the drawings or the angels would disappear. With her eyes opened as wide as possible, she called her mom. She could hear footsteps coming quickly down the hallway, and then the door handle jiggling. Damn it, she had forgotten that the door was locked. Backing up slowly, still staring at the drawings, she felt for the doorknob, finally grabbing it and unlocking it.

"What is it?" Jackie asked. Rose just kept looking at the wall, motioning for her mother to come with her to stand near the drawings. "Rose, what is it? Why are you staring at those so closely?"

"Mum, I need your help, okay? Is Dad home?" Rose asked, her eyes never leaving the wall.

"Of course. It's a Saturday, he doesn't work Saturdays. Rose, what's wrong?" Jackie was clearly concerned, but how could Rose get her to believe what was happening? It was simply outside of Jackie's imagination, she would never understand.

'It's hard to explain, but I need you to do exactly what I tell you to do, okay? I promise I'll explain later." Jackie murmured her agreement. "I need you to help me take down all of the drawings of the angel statues and take them to the living room. Tell Dad to get the tape. Don't take your eyes off the pictures!" Rose knew here mom thought she was totally insane, but Jackie had no idea how important this was. "Mum, I know it sounds crazy, but please, I'm begging you, just do it!" Rose went to the wall, taking down the picture that had already moved first, then two more. Jackie took the rest—luckily, there were only six of the angel drawings. Slowly they made their way through the house into the living room.

"Pete, would you bring up the tape, please?" Jackie called, eyes trained on the paper in her hands. Rose could read the tone of her voice so easily. It was the same one any parent used with their significant other when they were trying to say, "the kid's just come up with some silly fantasy, honey. Play along." Jackie was just trying to get Pete to play along, this was just a joke. It was just like the first time Rose had come to her parents declaring that the man in the pinstripe suit was an angel. Lots of "sure he is," and "whatever you say, Rose." They never really believed her. Well, when all of London disappeared, maybe then they'd stop thinking it was all a joke. Trying to maintain her anger, Rose kneeled down in front of the wall opposite the couch.

She had heard her father enter the room, but she didn't look away. "Mum, Dad, tape the pictures to the wall, okay? And then sit on this couch and watch the drawings and don't look away. I need to call Mickey to help me. Whatever you do, don't take your eyes off the pictures!"

"Rose?" Pete called, but Rose had already begun to retreat with the one picture in her hands, staring down the angels. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later, Dad, but it's so, so important that you look at these paintings and _do not look away._" Rose emphasized each word carefully. "Please believe me!" She pulled out her mobile, speed dialing Mickey without looking up. "Come on, come on," she whispered. "Pick up…"

"Hello?" a voice answered groggily.

"Mickey! Thank god. I need your help." She was trying to sound as urgent as possible.

"Jesus, Rose! It's nine in the morning on a Saturday! Why are you even awake?"

"I'm sorry it's so early, but I really, really need your help. Please?" He sighed on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, alright. What is it?"

Concentrated on the drawing in front of her, Rose said, "Your computer. I need you to research something for me."

Mickey sighed again. "Okay. Give me a second to get it running." Hurry, please, Rose thought, willing him to go faster. "Got it. What am I searching?"

Rose realized she hadn't actually thought about what she needed searched. "Um… something about crying angel statues. I think they have something to do with the disappearances."

"Statues? Making people disappear?" Mickey sounded incredulous, and the laughter in his voice made Rose want to hit something. No one believed her.

"Mickey, please! I know it sounds stupid but please just _try!_"

"Okay, okay, sorry!" Rose shook her head, still in the midst of the most intense staring contest of her life. "Searching now…" Mickey said.

Rose was tapping her foot impatiently, getting entirely too restless. "Anything?" she asked.

"Not really, no. I've just got a bunch of art websites and pictures of statues."

Damn. "Okay, keep looking."

"Yep." Rose could hear the clacking sound of Mickey typing rapidly on his keyboard. She walked back towards the living room, glancing quickly at her parents. They were still sitting there, obediently looking at the wall with the paintings. Rose gasped as she looked back down. She had forgotten. The angels in the drawing had moved closer, reaching out, teeth bared. No more looking away. "Rose!" she heard Mickey's voice.

"Yeah?" She tried desperately not to get her hopes up.

"I think I've got something."

Rose jumped with excitement. "Yes! Okay, read it to me!"

"I found a link to this article that looked promising, but the file was protected in some database. So I just hacked into some agency called Torchwood… I've got the article now. They're called the Weeping Angels… oh my god."

"What?"

"This says… it says they're _aliens_… Rose, this is rubbish, I'm sorry-"

"No!" Rose shouted. "Keep reading. Please." She was willing to believe anything at this point.

"Okay… it's an alien species that only exists when you can't see it. Have the ability to send whatever they touch back to any random place in the past, allowing the victim to continue their lives normally in a different time and place—the only deadly species of alien who kill their victims nicely. They let them live to death." Mickey paused. "That's most of the information it gives. Rose, whoever wrote this is completely off his rocker, don't listen to a word of it."

Oh, but Rose was certainly starting to listen to it. This had to be right; this had to be why people were disappearing! "Mickey, can you come over?"

He hesitated. "Well… I was supposed to be going over to Jake's today…"

"Bring him too, then, but I really need you to come help me right now. Please, Mickey?" Actually, having Jake come would be really good. He was the least stupid of Mickey's friends.

Another deep sigh. "Yeah, I'll be over in just a bit."

"Yes! Thank you so much, Mick. Hey, can you print that article off, too? We might need to use it. Okay, see you soon. Bye!" Rose hung up, watching the angels carefully. Time to get her eyes off this piece of paper.

Treading carefully through the apartment to her living room, Rose felt her way over to the wall where her other drawings were, reaching for the scotch tape and getting the picture to hang next to the others. She backed away, her eyes still trained on the paper. "Mum, Dad, you need to watch this one too, okay? Mickey's on his way over with Jake to help us."

"Rose, what's going on?" Jackie said, almost turning her head before Rose stopped her.

"Mum, keep looking! I promise you that I'll explain once Mickey and Jake get here, but you need to understand that this is so important. I know why there are people disappearing. It's gonna sound crazy but I promise you it's true." That struck a chord with Jackie. Now that she knew it was concerning the disappearances, Rose knew Jackie would help. As long as Rose could get her to believe the story.

* * *

When Mickey and Jake stumbled into the Tyler's apartment twenty minutes later, Rose was pacing back and forth, having given up looking at the pictures and instead trying to think of what could possibly be causing drawings to come to life and start taking people. It all just seemed so out of this world. "Mickey! Thank god you're here. Hi, Jake. Okay, go sit over there with my mum and dad and look at those pictures. I'll explain soon, I promise. Mick, do you have that article?" Both of them seemed a little scared at her urgency, but Mickey handed over a couple papers.

"There, that's the whole thing on the Weeping Angels from Torchwood and a little blurb on the guy who wrote it, his name's Larry Nightingale." Rose scanned the papers, looking for more information, but there wasn't much more to it. The man who had written the article was rather young, at least from what Rose could tell from his photograph. He owned a video store with his girlfriend, Sally. Apparently the two of them had battled a couple of these angels a couple years ago. Odd. But the thing that stood out to Rose was the section titled 'Weaknesses.' She read it out loud to herself.

"The Weeping Angels exist only when they are being seen. The reason they cover their faces with their hands is to prevent them from looking at each other. If they happen to lock eyes with each other, they remain immobile permanently." She made a mental note to remember this piece of information. It could come in handy if this was really what they were up against.

Rose was still reading when Jake called her name. "Oi! Are you gonna tell us what all this is about?" She turned to see him looking at her from the couch.

She pointed at the wall. "Only if you promise to keep looking at those drawings!" When they had all turned away from her, she began to pace as she talked, explaining to them the whole story. The disappearing drawings, her strange dream and the paper that said "don't blink", the angels that moved when she wasn't looking, the article from Torchwood. Everything,

When she had finally finished, she took a deep breath, but kept pacing. Jackie was the first to speak. "I'm sorry, Rose, but that all just sounds a little crazy. How are we supposed to believe that aliens are coming out of your drawings and taking people?"

"Because I know that's what's happening and I need you to trust me!" Rose was screaming now. She knew they wouldn't believe it. She turned to see all of the eyes in the room on her. They thought she was completely mental, she could see it. She had no proof. "Please. You have to believe me. I'm telling you it's…" Her voice trailed off and she looked over their heads to the wall behind them. "Oh my god," she whispered.

"What is it, Rose?" Pete asked.

Rose shook her head, unsure whether to celebrate her new evidence or yell in terror. "You all looked away from the drawings." Slowly, all the heads turned back to the papers taped against the wall.

The two angels had disappeared.

Rose dashed over to the wall, ripping down the blank sheet of paper. She turned it over and found exactly what she had expected: a thin black line running diagonally from the top left corner to the bottom right. Her jaw set defiantly, she showed it to the four people sitting on the couch. "Look."

They were all shocked. "B-but…" Jackie stammered.

"There were people there just a second ago!" Jake said, pointing to the blank page.

Rose's facial expression remained stoic. "Do you believe me now?" Four heads nodded, with mouths hanging open in surprise. "Good. Because now there are two more of those statues out there _killing people_!" Rose gave a yell of frustration and crumpled the paper in her hands into a ball. "They're my drawings, so it's up to me to stop it. But I need your help. Can you do that?" Again, they all nodded solemnly. Rose stood up.

"I'm going to go check my room to make sure there's no more angel drawings to worry about. You keep an eye on these. I don't care how you do it, take it in shifts if you have to, but make absolutely sure that someone is watching those pieces of paper at all times. Don't even blink or they'll disappear." She turned on her heel and stormed off to her bedroom.

Finally, she thought, opening the door to her room. Finally they believed her, they understood. Maybe she stood a chance against these aliens.

* * *

From where she sat in the living room, eyes focused intently on the remaining drawings, Jackie heard a shout from the direction of her daughter's room. "Rose?" she called tentatively, trying not to look away. "Everything all right back there?" No reply. "All right, that's it," Jackie said, standing up from the couch. "I'm gonna go check on her. You heard what she said, don't stop looking!" She followed the hallway back towards the bedrooms.

"Rose?' Jackie repeated. Still no answer. She got to the door, which was open just a crack, and knocked gently. "Rosie? Can I come in?" Those angels better not have taken her, too, Jackie thought.

Throwing the door wide, she saw something that she hadn't expected. Rose was still there, to her relief, but she was sitting on the floor with her head in her hands. Jackie ran to her, kneeling down and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Rose! What's wrong?" She looked up, tears in her eyes, and pointed to the wall.

"It's not just the angels, mum. They're all gone."

* * *

**A/N: *gasp* What's happening? :) I'll try to have the next chapter up soon! Although, I'm incredibly busy this coming week as I'll be filming music videos. So I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write. I'll try my hardest to get it done, though. If you want updates and spoilers and stuff like that, follow me on Tumblr :) Thanks for reading!**

**-bad-wolf-and-her-lonely-angel**


	4. Chapter 4

******A/N: Hi everyone! First off, let me apologize profusely about the long wait. I had half of this chapter written on my computer which my mom took in to get "fixed" (even though there wasn't really anything wrong with it) and it took the repairman over two weeks to get it back to me. I hope the wait was worth it. Anyways, please enjoy, and I promise the wait won't be near as long for the next chapter. Review if you'd like, and as always, my tumblr URL is _stolenbyasexytardis_ :) I post updates and sneak peeks and such for this and my other stories there. Thanks for reading!**

**Pairing: Rose/Ten**

* * *

**__****Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.**

* * *

**The Paper Angel**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Rose strolled down the hallway, trying her hardest to keep her breathing even. It was okay. They believed her. They were going to figure out how to make the aliens go away. She had thoroughly convinced herself of this by the time she reached her bedroom door. Thinking through her mental library of drawings, she was fairly sure she had removed all of the angel drawings from her wall, apart from the guardian angel that hung above her bed. Something felt odd about taking those down, so she decided to leave them there. Having made up her mind, she opened the door for a final check. She did not expect to see what she saw.

Blank sheets of paper dotted her walls where her drawings had been. Not just angels, though. All sorts of creatures and people had just disappeared. The robot armies, the tentacle monsters and the gas mask children, the soldier girl and fire woman and the sparrow, the handsome time agent. Vanished. Gone. Spinning in a slow circle, she looked at all the papers. Out of the hundreds of drawings on her walls, there had to be at least fifty that had gone blank. She knew what she would find on the back of all those pieces of paper: the same black line as all the others. Letting a violent sob escape her throat, Rose sunk to the ground, tears filling her eyes. She could hear her mother calling for her. She tried to respond but she couldn't find her voice, so instead she curled her knees into her chest, bringing her hands up to cover her face. Seconds later she heard footsteps coming quickly down the hall. "Rose?" her mom's voice asked. She buried her head farther into her hands. She couldn't do this. "Rosie? Can I come in?" The door was flung open; Rose could hear it hit the wall.

She looked up at her mom, who asked what was wrong. "It's not just the angels, mum. They're all gone."

As Jackie looked around the room in terror, Rose realized what she had just said. It wasn't just the angels. All of those creatures in her drawings had just been released into the world, and who knew what kind of destruction they could cause? But they didn't know anything about the other aliens, if that was what they were. How could they get rid of them if they didn't even know what they were? Rose was terrified. She had no idea what to do. Her hope was disappearing as quickly as her drawings were.

* * *

Pete, Mickey, and Jake were still sitting in the living room, eyes glued to the papers on the wall, when there was a knock at the door. All three froze. None of them knew who would be knocking. Hardly anyone came to visit the Tyler residence unannounced. And especially now, when most people weren't leaving their houses for fear of being taken, there shouldn't be anyone knocking. "You guys heard that, yeah?" Jake asked quietly. Both Mickey and Pete murmured an agreement. "Well… who do you reckon it is?"

"I don't know," Pete whispered. The person knocked again, a quick succession of five raps on the door. "I guess I should answer it. Don't look away." Pete stood, straightening his shirt as he walked to the door. With a deep sigh, he turned the knob and opened the door just a crack.

A younger man was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, a slight smile on his lips. He was flanked by another man and woman, who Pete quickly realized were pointing guns in his direction. Startled, Pete raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He had never seen these people before in his life. Were they some sort of police?

"Hello," the man in the doorway said brightly, pushing himself up so he was standing merely inches away from Pete. "Captain Jack Harkness. Mind telling me what you were doing hacking into the Torchwood database?"

* * *

Rose and Jackie crept quietly up the hall. They had heard someone knocking a couple times. Peeking around the wall into the living room, Rose watched her father open the door. He was blocking her view of whoever was standing there, but from the way he was standing she could tell he was afraid. Suddenly, he raised his hands, and Rose gasped. Whoever was at the door was armed. A deep, warm voice started to speak. Rose listened intently before putting all the pieces together in her head. They were from Torchwood. That was the database that Mickey had hacked for the article on the Weeping Angels. She looked into the living room. Mickey had his backpack sitting by the couch. Rose shook her head. Damn it. He brought his laptop to her house. She deduced that whoever these people, whoever they were, must have traced his laptop to their location. Her question was answered right away.

"Earlier this morning, an unknown source hacked into the Torchwood mainframe, and ended up on an article about the Weeping Angels. Sound familiar? The file was downloaded and the breach only lasted a few minutes. We were able to trace the IP address back to the owner of the laptop, Mickey Smith, and also the location of said laptop, which is here in this household… precisely, over there, on that couch, inside of that backpack. So, may I ask again, what were you doing inside of a top-secret government database?"

Pete did not speak, at a loss of words. From behind Rose, Jackie stepped out from around the corner and strode confidently up to stand next to Pete. "Oi, you two, there'll be no pointin' any guns in my house, you hear?" The leader waved his hand and the other two lowered their guns. Rose tried to peek out farther, but between bother of her parents and the china case that stood between her and the front door, she could only catch glimpses of the strangers, and the occasional profile of the man's face.

"It's alright," the man reassured her, smiling and taking Jackie's hand. He brushed his lips over the top of it, and Rose saw her father clench his fists. "We just want to chat, Mrs…"

"Tyler," she replied firmly, snatching her hand away. The man's smile left his face quickly, and he looked back at his two companions. They both looked equally as surprised. He pointed at her, lost for words. "My name's Jackie Tyler." There was silence. "Well, go on then, what are you three lookin' at?" Jackie crossed her arms.

He turned to look at his comrades, then back to face Jackie. "You don't… you don't happen to have a daughter, do you?"

Rose took a deep breath and stepped out from the corner. "Yeah, that'd be me." He turned to look at her, and finally she caught sight of his whole face. They gasped simultaneously.

She had seen him before. This was the man, the handsome time agent from her drawings. She had seen the other two appear on paper once or twice before as well. The man walked towards her slowly, incredulously, as if he could not believe she actually existed.

The moment lasted for a few seconds before the man spoke softly. "Could, um, could I speak with you alone for a minute?" Rose nodded, gesturing back to the hallway she had come out from. She began walking, leading the way, but she could feel the man's eyes burning into her back, always watching her. She resisted the urge to stare back at him. Outside her bedroom door she finally stopped and turned to face him.

Despite the fact that Mickey had hacked a government database and aliens were loose on London, the man was smiling wistfully at Rose. She crossed her arms, in a way that was very like her mother.

"What are you looking at?"

He ignored her question, reaching out to touch her face. She almost flinched away, but thought better of it, remembering that she needed his help and his trust, and allowed him to rest his palm against her cheek. "Rose Tyler," he whispered. "So good to see you again."

"How do you know me?" she asked.

He sighed heavily. "You'd never believe me."

She scoffed. "Plenty of things are happening right now that should be completely impossible. Trust me, at this point, I'd believe anything."

He chuckled, pausing a moment to study her face before he spoke again. "We knew each other. We met a long time ago. Twenty two years ago, to be exact."

"But…" Rose's mind was struggling to grasp what he was saying to her. "But I'm only nineteen. How could you have known me twenty-two years ago? That's… impossible."

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," he laughed. "It's a long, long story, and we don't have time for me to tell it right now. He can explain it to you when we find him." Before Rose could ask who this mysterious "he" was, the man continued. "Anyway, we knew each other, but I know that you don't know who I am."

"You're a time agent," Rose blurted out. "A con man, too." He looked shocked again.

"H-how do you know that? I thought you didn't remember me!"

Rose shrugged. "I've never met you… at least that I know of. But I've seen your face, and that's what my head told me when I saw your face. I just… seem to know, somehow."

"How?" he asked again.

Rose didn't reply, but opened the door to her room and beckoned for him to follow. She led him to the wall where a couple of stunningly accurate portraits of him were hanging. He silently approached one of the drawings, reaching out to touch it before drawing his hand away. He almost looked scared.

"You drew this," he said finally, more of a statement than a question. Rose nodded. Now it was him who could not make sense of things, she could see it written all over his face. "But you don't know me, you shouldn't remember, you've never seen me in this world!"

"But I see you," Rose told him, cutting him off. "I see you, inside my head, in my dreams, in my imagination, ever since I was a little girl. That picture, I drew that five years ago, and I don't even know your name. But I do know you. Somehow."

It was silent for what seemed like hours. But then he spoke. "Jack," he said, looking at Rose. "My name's Jack. Nice to finally meet you." He looked so sad; Rose didn't know how to react. He stroked her cheek again.

"So many memories," he whispered. "All those amazing things we did. Having adventures, fighting Dalek armies, running away from gas mask zombies, getting rid of the Slitheen, nanogenes, dancing on top of an invisible spaceship next to Big Ben during a German air raid… Rose Tyler, the Bad Wolf, and she doesn't remember." Rose didn't know what half of those things meant, but she was certain that what he was telling her was true. This was terrifying; being told all of the sudden that there were years of your life you couldn't recall. She didn't know what those years were, or who those people were that she met, or what she did, but she wanted them back. She looked up at Jack and found him staring at her with sad eyes full of sympathy. "I know it's scary, and I'm sorry to dump it on you all at once. I know what it's like. I've had memories taken from me in the past. Significantly less, only two years, but I know. We'll figure it out, Rose." She nodded. Even though she had really just met him, she felt the truth in his words, a deep recess of her mind recognizing the bond they had twenty-two years ago. She trusted him.

Jack was walking around the room, admiring Rose's drawings. He smiled sadly, and Rose could tell he recognized them; he knew the people, the creatures. He would point to certain ones, chuckle to himself or run his fingers across the pages. It was all slightly bittersweet. Finally, he looked upwards and saw the drawings of her guardian angel. He studied them closely for a while before turning back to Rose. "All of these, you drew them? You see them?" Again, Rose nodded. To her surprise, Jack grinned. "That's the Rose that I know. Always fighting back. You didn't let them take us away from you." Rose didn't understand that, but she guessed it was a good thing. He paused, looking at the wall again. "Why are there so many blank sheets of paper?" he asked.

Ah. Rose had forgotten, momentarily, the situation they were in. "We need your help, Jack. I don't know what Torchwood is or what you do, but we need you." She began to retell the whole story of her gift for art and the disappearances.

Jack had his head in his hands by the time she had finished talking. "Oh boy," he groaned, dragging the vowels out and rubbing his face. Placing his hands on his hips, he turned to Rose, looking worried. "We caught on to the alien activity—it was hard not to, people are disappearing, no trace of them anywhere—but we had no idea. This is bad, Rose, it's volcano day… oh, you don't remember that. Anyway. This is so, so bad."

"You're the expert!" Rose said. "What are we going to do?"

"Oh, Rose," Jack smiled sadly. "I am hardly an expert. But I know who is, and we need to find him."

"Who is he, then?" Rose was getting impatient.

Jack cocked an eyebrow at her. "You don't know? His face is all over your room. Hanging from the ceiling."

Rose looked up at her artwork, spinning from fishing wire pinned to the ceiling above her. "Him? The angel?" Jack threw his head back and laughed.

"The angel? Ha. Well, I guess you could call him that. No, he's an alien, too. The good kind, I promise!" he added when Rose's eyes widened. "He can help us. He's the only one who can help us."

"Well, who is he?" Rose repeated.

Jack grinned again, grabbing one of the drawings on the ceiling, holding it still so that the angel's eyes stared into hers. "This, dear Rose…" He flicked the drawing, letting it spin wildly on its string. "This man is the Doctor."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: FINALLY HERE IT IS. I'm sorry. My personal life is dumb and my parents are dumb and my job is really dumb right now. And my tendonitis in my wrist is back which makes it hard to type but I DID IT ANYWAY. Enjoy, and review please! You can follow me on tumblr for updates and sneak peeks and also stuff for my other fics. My URL is _stolenbyasexytardis._ Thanks for reading!**

**Pairing: Rose/Ten**

* * *

******__****Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.**

* * *

**The Paper Angel**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Rose looked around the small gathering crammed inside her tiny living room. She was standing, pacing back and forth in a small line of space between the television and the wall. Gathered around the coffee table sat her parents, Mickey, Jake, and the Torchwood crew consisting of Captain Jack and his two assistants. Rose had discovered the woman's name was Gwen, and the handsome man in the suit was called Ianto. Everyone was talking at once. Phone calls were being made, plans being formed and put into action. It was a whirlwind.

"Rose and I need to find the Doctor," Jack was saying. "I don't know how the hell we're supposed to do that, but I have a hunch that he's already here. Which means everyone needs to be looking for a big blue box that says "Police" on it. It could be anywhere in London so we'll all need to keep in touch. Everyone needs everyone's cell number. My crew back at Torchwood is getting to work on the actual aliens. Right now we've got the Angels confirmed; still working on the others. Rose, I assume you had the drawings organized and you know which ones are missing, yeah?" Rose nodded. "Okay, great. Yeah. That's good. That'll make it way easier for my team to know what we're up against."

"Captain," Gwen interrupted. "We've got hold of Nightingale; he and his partner are on their way."

"Here?" Jack asked. The woman nodded in response.

He sighed heavily. "Well. Looks like this is our temporary home base. Is that okay? he asked, turning to Jackie and Pete, who were both too scared to say anything but yes. "Okay. Angels are covered, then. Rose, go get those drawings, please."

Rose retreated to her bedroom, unpinning a drawing from each section where one had disappeared. On second thought, she grabbed the ones that had people in them, too. Maybe they'd come in handy if they could find them. Carrying the stack, Rose walked back to the sitting room, catching the tail end of Jack's speech.

"Rose said they came from the drawings, so our job is to figure out how to get them _back_," he was saying.

Rose interjected, stepping forward into the room. "Which also means finding out how they got here in the first place." Jack nodded solemnly. She handed him the stack of papers, which he set on the table and began to rifle through, sorting the humans from the aliens.

When the two piles were separated, he handed the stack of drawings of the aliens to Ianto. "Get back to Torchwood as quickly as you can. I talked to the police in Cardiff, the roads are cleared for tonight. Start chronicling these, compile a list and get back here with Owen and Tosh so we can start hunting these sons of bitches. Take one of the blank ones back too, see if Tosh can analyze it and figure out how they got here." Jack held onto the few papers that had human faces on them, but Ianto tucked his gun back into his belt and promptly left the apartment, already rifling through the papers.

Rose met Jack's eyes. He raised his eyebrows at her, hands on his hips. "We are in so deep, Rose." Without another word, they went to work pinning the faces to the wall.

About five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "That's Nightengale," Jack said. "Gwen, come help Rose finish this." The dark-haired woman replaced Jack, taking a picture of the curly-haired time child and pinning it up next to the fiery redhead. Each face had its own section of wall, even Jack and Gwen and Ianto's.

"We're going to figure it out, you know," Gwen spoke quietly, leaning against the wall and looking at Rose. Rose didn't respond, refusing to even make eye contact with her, still going through her artwork. The woman sighed. "Jack's clever. And from what I've seen, so are you. And so is he," she said as Rose put up the final drawing on the wall, her angel. "The Doctor. He's here, I know it, and we're going to find him. I promise." Finally, Rose turned to look at her.

Gwen's green eyes were kind, and she gave Rose a half-smile, which Rose tried to return. "Thank you," Rose whispered. Gwen nodded, and suddenly Rose was engulfed in a hug. She was on the verge of tears but for the sake of the people she was working with she kept her composure.

Rose could hear voices from the front hallway. "Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood Institute. You must be Larry."

"Yes, and this is my partner and my wife, Sally."

A women's voice spoke. "Hello, nice to meet you."

"Come this way and I'll introduce your to my frien- I mean, my client. We're so glad you're here."

Rose let go of Gwen and they both turned to watch the three walk into the room. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the woman. "Sally, Larry, this is R— Rose, what's wrong?"

Rose shook her head in disbelief. "The sparrow," she whispered.

"What?" Jack asked.

"I've seen you before," Rose said, pointing at the woman called Sally. "The sparrow.

Sally looked confused. "Yes, that's my maiden name, Sparrow. But… I don't think we've ever met before—"

"We haven't," Rose cut her off. She reached back from behind her and pulled a drawing off the wall—a pencil sketch of a woman with the words "the sparrow" scrawled in underneath. She held it up to Sally's face.

Jack's hand came up to cover his mouth. The drawing was a perfect portrait of Sally Sparrow, down to the smallest details of the way her hair curled and the shape of her eyes and the dimples in her cheeks. Everyone was stunned into silence.

"But… but… Rose, you've never seen her before!" Jack finally stuttered.

Rose looked over at him, for the first time seeing Jack truly scared. It was clear he did not understand the situation, and neither did Rose, although that was nothing new. "Yeah? Well, until today I thought I had never seen you before either, but apparently I have," Rose bit back, an edge in her voice.

Jack shook his head. "No, Rose. _You've never seen her before._"

Rose blew it off. "But I've drawn her." She turned to speak directly to Sally. "You're the sparrow who fought the angel statues."

Sally took a cautious step backwards. "How do you know that? People aren't supposed to know about that."

"Long story," Jack interjected, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and lowering his voice. "She travelled with the Doctor." Sally's eyes lit up with recognition, turning to look at Rose again with an open mouth at the mention of his name. "But… there were complications. We're still trying to figure some things out, I'll explain later." Rose's shoulders hunched slightly, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt like such an anomaly, a specimen of sorts. She was missing years of her memory, and no one would tell her what it was and where it had gone. Soon enough, with all the secrets and mysteries surrounding her, she was going to snap. Why couldn't Jack just tell her what was wrong with her?

All of them were still watching Rose carefully. She looked around at the eight pairs of eyes resting on her, becoming more and more restless by the second. "Alright then!" she finally shouted. "There's people disappearing, we should get going on these bloody angels, don't you think?"

Jack looked at her suspiciously, but agreed and had everyone convene around the coffee table. "We've got your car, yeah, Larry?" The sandy-haired man nodded. "Good. Gwen will go with you and Sally." He looked to his partner for confirmation, which she gave. "And these two will follow in the car they brought." He tilted his head in the direction of Mickey and Jake. "I doubt either of them are too bright, but they'll be quick and it gives you a couple extra people to work with." Rose winced. The two young men both looked terribly offended at Jack's comment. "Gwen, get in contact with the police. Find out where the last reported disappearance was and go there, they can't have gone far during daylight. Quickly, now, be extremely careful, I don't want to lose any of you right now. And remember: whatever you do, don't blink!" The five of them stood and left the apartment, Gwen already holding her cell phone up to her ear and talking in a hushed voice to a police officer. Jack turned back to the remaining family. Jackie and Pete were sitting close together on the couch, holding hands and looking incredibly nervous. Rose still stood in her corner between the television and the wall, arms crossed. "Alright, you three. We've got to find the Doctor. He's the only one who can help us at this point. We're going to drive all around London, that's the only way we can look for him. And we need to hurry, or all of London will be dead by tomorrow morning. Let's go."

He led the way out of the door and down to where the Tyler's car was parked. Turning to Pete, he held out a hand. "You don't mind if I drive, do you? Promise I'll keep to the speed limit… mostly." Tentatively, he placed the key on Jack's palm. Rose clambered into the passenger seat, buckling her seat belt and watching as Jack started the car and pulled into the street. "Keep your eyes peeled for the blue police box. Wherever the TARDIS is, he's got to be close. He's tall, lots of hair, wears a suit that's either brown or blue and a long trench coat. Or at least, that's what he looked like last time I saw him. He could be… different."

"He's not," Rose said quietly.

Jack glanced over at her, eyebrows furrowed. "What did you say?"

"He looks the same."

Jack's face fell into a look of thinly veiled annoyance, like a parent when their child says that there's a monster under the bed one too many times. "Rose, sorry, but you haven't seen him. You haven't met him in this… life. You couldn't possibly know—"

"Jack," Rose said forcefully. "He looks the same. Trust me. He used to look different but I knew it when he changed. He used to be bald. Big nose and ears, leather jacket, bald, right? But a couple years back, he changed. I knew it was the same person though."

This time he didn't even bother to look at her, but merely shook his head, eyes on the road as he sped up to ten miles above the speed limit. 'Christ," he whispered. "It just keeps on coming."

Rose looked out the window. It was only one in the afternoon, but the streets were practically empty, the shops barren. Everyone was staying inside, afraid of disappearing if they went outside their homes. She sighed. This was all her fault. She had released all these damn aliens on London, she was responsible. All these people were disappearing because of her; people were going to die because of her. She rubbed her face, trying to keep it together.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Jack spoke in a quiet voice so Rose's parents, chatting nervously in the back, wouldn't hear. It was as if he had read her mind. He glanced over at her, giving her the tiniest smile. "Really, don't. You couldn't have known that this would happen." His eyes drifted back to the road ahead as he took a left turn at the stoplight, but his hand reached over and found hers, squeezing it tightly for a second before he placed it back on the gear shift.

Another couple of minutes passed in silence between the two of them, until Rose finally spoke. "How long has it been?"

"How long since what?"

"Since you've seen me last." Rose was scared to know what was happening, but at the same time she was just too curious not to ask.

Jack paused. "Nineteen years."

"But I'm nineteen years old now… Jack, what happened to me?"

He shot her a look that was full of pity. "I'm sorry. I know you want to know what you can't remember, I know how it feels and I'm so sorry. But I don't even know exactly how it worked. Only the Doctor does. When we find him, he will tell you. I promise. Okay?" Rose didn't respond, but turned to stare back out the window to try to piece together what she knew of her past.

Jack exhaled deeply. "Remember, everyone," he said, raising his voice and looking in the rearview to catch Pete and Jackie's eyes, "look for the blue box. And any other weird things you might happen to see."

Half an hour later, they were still driving, having made no progress and having seen nothing. Jack had just gotten off the phone with Ianto, who had apparently given him a brief summary of the aliens they were thought to be up against, and whatever they were, it was clearly not reassuring to Jack. He was looking more and more worried by the second. His fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on the steering wheel, filling the uncomfortable silence and making Rose even more restless than she had been previously.

"Okay, that's enough. We've been around half this city and we haven't seen anything. Let's head back to the house." Jack sounded exhausted. He took a sharp right onto another deserted street and started back in the direction of the Powell Estate.

A minute later, Jackie spoke tentatively from the backseat. "Um, Captain? I don't know what you meant by weird things, but do those count? Over there by the restaurant?" Everyone glanced over to the side of the street, where there was a little outdoor café extending from the shops onto the sidewalk. Standing around the tables were half a dozen creatures dressed in blue work suits, bald, with tentacles protruding from where their mouths should have been. All of them were holding small white orbs in their hands. Rose instantly recognized them from her drawings. They didn't seem to be causing any harm to anything, or doing anything at all, for that matter.

"Yes!" Jack pulled a u-turn and swung around to park the car next to the curb. Rose noticed a renewed sense of excitement on his face, as if he got some sort of thrill from this. He pushed a button on his earpiece and it light up blue. "Ianto, you there? We've got an Ood sighting, six of them in an outdoor restaurant about seven miles southwest of the apartment. They don't seem to be doing anything at the moment, just standing…" He paused. "Anyway, I'm going to need you to hurry even more if possible. As soon as you get to Torchwood, get Tosh and as much equipment as you can fit into the SUV, start analyzing that paper, and start driving back here. And see if there's any way you could try to locate the Doctor." Another pause, and Rose could faintly hear the man's voice on the other end. "Thanks. I'm going to take care of these Ood. See you soon. Hurry." He pushed the button again to end the call. Now he spoke to the other three in the car. "Alright, these aliens are called Ood, and they are usually harmless."

"Usually?" Rose asked. That didn't sound convincing.

Jack shot her a dirty look. "They're technically a slave race, born to serve," he continued as if Rose had not spoken. "So yes, they're harmless. We should be able to get them to come with us pretty easily. If we can get them back to the apartment, then it shouldn't be hard to contain them inside while we work on the others."

"I don't want no bloody tentacle-faces messing up my flat!" Jackie interjected, but she fell silent at the pleading look Rose gave her.

"Are we good, then?" Jack asked, looking at each one of them in turn. They all nodded. "Alright, let's go get them… oh, damn it, I'm the only one with a gun! Shit. That's going to need to change soon. For the Ood, though, we should be fine. Come on, all of you." He threw open the door of Pete's car, reaching for his gun as he walked quickly up to the short black fence of the café, and Rose followed close behind, her parents staying a little bit closer to the car. All six of the aliens turned to look in their direction. Jack raised his gun to aim at the one closest to him.

The closest Ood stepped forward a few steps. He held out his hands, and the little white orb lit up as he spoke. "Hello. How may we be of service?"

"Why are you here?" Jack asked, his gun pointing right at the creature's forehead.

The Ood did not delay in his answer. "The Ood are here to serve," it replied in its monotone voice.

"How did you get here?" Jack demanded, a little harsher this time.

"The Ood are here to serve," it repeated.

"The Ood are here to serve." The fellow five aliens echoed the first.

"Damn it," Jack said, pocketing his gun underneath his long blue military coat. "The only problem with them being servants is that it's all they ever want to talk about." Just as he was about to approach them, he stopped, reaching up to his earpiece, which had lit up with a bright blue light. Rose stepped closer so she could faintly hear the voice coming through.

"Jack?" It was Gwen, and her voice sounded urgent.

"What is it?" Jack turned back towards the car.

"It's the angels. They've got control of the lights. We're going to need some backup."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Christ. I'm so sorry. I'm awful at this thing called updating. BUT regardless, thank you all for your incredible response to this story. I'm glad so many of you enjoy it. I hope this was worth the wait. Enjoy, and please review. **

**Also, I'm three followers away from 100 on tumblr, and I'm taking prompts for a drabble to celebrate when I reach that number. So follow me and submit a prompt! Maybe I'll pick yours :) my URL is _stolenbyasexytardis._**

**Pairing: Rose/Ten**

* * *

_**Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.**_

* * *

**The Paper Angel**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Rose buckled her seatbelt as quickly as she could as Jack sped down the streets of downtown London. He was on the phone with Toshiko, the computer genius at Torchwood, who was giving him directions to wherever it was the angels were. She looked to the backseat. Both of her parents looked exactly as Rose felt – purely, utterly terrified. Gwen had said that the angels had the lights. What did that mean?

Jack must have noticed the confused look on her face. "When they're particularly strong, the Angels can sometimes control electricity for a short period of time… enough to flicker the lights and allow them to move towards their target. They are also incredibly proficient at surrounding whatever it is they are hunting, which, in this case, is our team. We need to get there fast. Hold on!" He swung around a corner, hardly slowing down and throwing everyone up against the left wall of the car.

Rose watched her knuckles turn white as she gripped the door handle with all of her strength. Her mind was whirring; she was trying to remember what it was that these angels did, how they killed people. Mickey had said something about being sent back in time. Living to death. Christ. If they lost any members of their team, especially Mickey… Rose didn't want to think about that.

Five minutes later they skidded to a halt in front of a tall, ancient-looking building, made of red brick with vines climbing the walls. It was obvious that no one had been maintaining the building for many, many years. In bright contrast to the dull structure, neon yellow police tape was stretched across the entrance and cop cars littered the front lawn. Looking closer, Rose realized that the building was a chapel, and the surrounding area was actually a cemetery. There were headstones poking up out of the tall grass, all different shades of grey and brown, worn with age. The chapel itself was derelict and almost sad. Nearly all the windows had been knocked out, and one of the doors looked like someone had tried to nail it shut and then given up halfway through. It was dismal and dreary. She shuddered. This was certainly the place for statues to hide. It was creepy as all hell, she decided. "Woodgrange Park Cemetery," Jack stated.

He climbed out and slammed the car door behind him, jogging up to the entrance of the building. Rose followed, hearing her parents' footsteps behind her. A large man in a police uniform stood near the doorway, and held out his hands as they ducked under the tape and made their way quickly towards him. "Excuse me, sir, this is a crime scene…"

"Torchwood." Jack held up his credentials for the man to see, and without stopping, brushed past the officer into the chapel. "They're with me," he shouted back, and the man stepped aside to let Rose and her parents go ahead.

They stood in the middle of the long room, dim light filtering in through the windows and streaking the dirt floor of the chapel. Jack already had Gwen on the phone. "We're here. Where the hell are you guys?" There was some shouting on the other end, and Jack started walking towards a hallway on the left, motioning for them to follow. "On our way. Hang tight." He pressed a button on his earpiece. "Basement," he explained to the other three. Reaching into his long military coat, Jack pulled out a few torches and handed them to Rose and her parents. "Turn those on when we get to the bottom. They may not stay on once we get down there but it will distract the Angels for a little bit, enough for us to get our team out of there and into the graveyard. I expect that the Angels will follow us out there but I can't be sure." They had reached the stairwell that led downwards to what Rose assumed was the basement where everyone else was. It was pitch black. "Follow my lead," Jack said, and took the first step.

They descended quietly but quickly, Jack first, followed by Rose, Pete, and Jackie. Rose could see a light flickering ahead, down a long hall. They reached the corner, and now she could hear the distinct voices of Gwen, Larry, and Sally, giving quiet directions. Mickey and Jake weren't talking. Rose did not want to think about the implications of that. They were still there, of course. Gwen wouldn't let anything happen to them, they were still safe with the others. Right? Rose gulped. She certainly hoped.

In the flickering light, Rose saw that Jack had pulled out his own torch. He leaned back to the others and whispered, "On my cue." And with that, he stood up straight, holding the torch like a gun, and took a deep breath before stepping out into the basement with his light shining right on the back of one of the statues.

"Peek-a-boo, bitches."

Rose stepped next to Jack, switching the torch on and aiming it in another direction. She caught two angels in her beam of light, and out of the corner of her eye she could see five human forms standing, huddled together in the corner of the room. She breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone was okay. In her peripheral she saw two more lights go on, and three more angel statues frozen in place. "Everyone go!" Jack shouted, his eyes focused in on the statue in front of him. "Out! Into the graveyard, run!" There were footsteps behind her as the other five people ran upstairs, just as her torchlight began to dim.

"Jack…" she warned him. His light was going out, too. Hers flickered once and she gasped as she saw that the two angels in her view had turned towards her, their faces set in terrifying expressions as they reached out to her.

"Rose, Pete, Jackie, back up slowly. Keep your light on them as long as you can and then run. Get out with the others, I'm right behind you. I'll buy us some time, hold them off for a couple more seconds." She could hear her parents making their way back to the stairwell, but Rose hesitated. "Rose," Jack growled without losing eye contact with the angel statue. "Go."

She held her ground. "I'm not leaving you down here with six of them," she said defiantly. There was no way he could look at all of them at once.

"I can handle it, thank you," he spoke through clenched teeth. "Get out. Now. I'll follow you in a second." She did not budge, and he stomped his foot loudly on the floor, sending an echo crashing around the small basement. "Damn it, Rose, that's an order!" She huffed, and started to back away, being careful to keep her flickering light on the angels until her foot grazed the edge of the stairwell. And then she ran. She spun around and took the stairs two at a time, reaching the top in seconds and flying out of the backdoor of the church into the graveyard.

Without waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light, she kept running, looking around for her family and friends. They stood a couple feet away, underneath a dying tree. She jogged over to them. "Everyone okay?"

They all nodded, catching their breath. Gwen spoke first. "Where's Jack?" she asked in her Welsh accent.

"Um…" Rose breathed for a second, pointing back in the direction she had run from. "He made me leave. Told me he'd be right behind me." She turned back to look at the chapel. Jack was nowhere to be found. "Where is he?" Rose asked quietly. "He said he was coming." She stepped towards the building a little bit before she felt a hand grab her shoulder. It was Gwen. She spun Rose around to face her and gave her a stern look.

"Rose, no. It's not safe in there."

"But—" Rose started.

"Jack can take care of himself." Gwen let go of her arm and walked back to talk to Mickey and Jake. _Damn it,_ Rose thought. _I shouldn't have left him down there alone._

She eyed the church for another minute. Still, Jack hadn't shown up. Finally, she decided it was time to figure out what he was up to. "Jack!" she shouted. She could feel the eyes of the entire group on her back, but she couldn't care less. She needed to know that Jack was okay. "Jack?" she called again. Still no response. Without looking back, Rose broke into a trot, figuring that she would re-enter the chapel from where she had exited and see if Jack was around. She heard Gwen call her name angrily from somewhere behind her, and started to sprint.

There were footsteps behind her, muffled by the grass, but she could tell that at least two people were following, gaining on her. She bent forward and ran harder.

The exit of the church – the one she had come from, at least – wasn't actually a door, but a part of wall that had been knocked down and left a large hole that was bigger than an actual doorway. Being careful not to trip on any of the rubble and stray bricks that were cast across the ground both outside and inside the chapel, Rose stopped in the middle of the room, which was empty. "Jack!" she yelled. Nothing. "Shit!" she mumbled under her breath. She turned around to see Gwen and Mickey coming at her about ten feet away. She went to run for the stairwell when she hit something solid and gave a shout as she fell.

All the breath knocked out of her chest, Rose looked up and felt a sharp tug at her shoulder. Jack was standing above her, breathing heavily and pulling at her coat. "Come on! We have to go!" Scrambling to her feet, Rose followed Jack back out of the chapel into the graveyard, watching him grab the two that had followed Rose back and dragging them along. She was gulping for air but at the same time she was nearly certain the statue aliens were right behind them and wasn't going to risk stopping to check. She did, however, see the terrified looks of the rest of the group as they got closer. They finally made it to the tree and Rose bent down, hands on her knees, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible. She hadn't known she was this out of shape. Again, there was a hand gripping her arm, too tight to be Gwen this time. "Damn it, Rose, I told you to let me handle it!" Jack breathed heavily as he spoke.

"I-I'm sorry!" she replied, straightening up. "I couldn't just leave you in there with all of them! You could have been dead for all I knew!"

"Even if I was, it wouldn't do the rest of us any good if you went and got yourself killed too!" Jack was yelling now.

"I was just trying to help!"

"You can help by doing what I tell you to do!" They were inches away from each other, huffing angrily with brows furrowed. Jack gritted his teeth. "When I give you an order, you follow. Understood?"

Rose clenched her fists at her sides, trying to resist punching the arrogant man before her right in the nose. Without thinking about her words, Rose spoke. "What happened to you, Jack? You didn't used to be like this." She turned away from him, arms crossed.

She had expected him to rebuke, or to ignore her comment. But she didn't expect him to grab her and spin her around, or hold his vice-like grip on her arms while he stared at her with the most curious expression on his face. 'What did you say, Rose?"

"I said, 'you didn't…" Rose trailed off mid-sentence. What had she said? She didn't remember. This was terribly odd. She knew that she had made some sort of rude comment in her anger, but she honestly could not recall what it was she had said to him. "I said…" Rose gasped as a sharp pain bloomed just above her left eye, dropping to her knees in the dry grass and holding her head in her hands. She could hear Jack calling her name but she could not find it in her to respond or open her eyes. Images flitted across the inside of her eyelids, split seconds of pictures that seemed familiar but not enough for Rose to recognize them. She happened to notice herself in the pictures, much like she was now. Her hair was the same length, wavy and beautiful, and she was wearing a black jacket over a Union Jack t-shirt. There was a flash of blue light and she was cradled in strong arms, with a smiling face gazing down at her—none other than Captain Jack Harkness. Another flash and she and Jack were dancing on something she could not see, Glenn Miller playing in the background of the dark night. It all seemed incredibly surreal to Rose. Suddenly it went black, her eyes opened, and the pain in her temple subsided. Jack – the real one this time – was kneeling beside her, looking terribly worried.

"Rose! Are you okay?" She nodded, blinking a couple times and rubbing her face. Jack stood up and offered her a hand, and with his help she pulled herself to her feet. "What the hell was that?" he asked, staring at her like she had just sprouted three heads.

Her vision blurred and she stumbled dizzily, glad when Jack wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her upright. "I-I don't know," she replied honestly once she had regained her balance. "I saw… you. I saw us together, actually."

"Where? What were we doing?" Jack asked harshly.

"Um… I guess we were dancing or something?"

Jack's eyes widened. "Where, Rose? I need to know where!"

Rose smacked him on the chest. "Geez, what is this, some sort of interrogation? Lay off." When he raised his eyebrows at her, though, she answered. "I dunno, Jack, it was dark and hard to see. I couldn't see what it was, but it looked like there was nothing underneath us at all! I mean, I could feel something there under my feet but it just looked like we were floating."

It looked like Jack was about to say something to her, but at that precise moment, Sally interrupted them. "Um, I'm sorry to butt in, but we've got a bit of a problem here." She pointed just to Rose's right and the two turned to see the angel statues standing only about ten yards away, covering their faces with their hands. Rose counted quickly. There were still six of them.

"Eyes on them, everyone. Gwen, head count. How many people do we have?" Rose focused her eyes on the angels, struggling not to blink.

There was a slight pause, and then, "Nine! There are nine of us here." Jack didn't hesitate with the first plan that popped into his head.

"Okay then. Blondie," he called, motioning in Jake's direction, "take Pete and Jackie back to the apartment. The rest of my team will meet you there, and they'll tell you what else we need to do to take care of these aliens."

"Jack," Gwen cut in, a hint of caution in her voice as she approached her captain. "Wouldn't it be easier to fight these aliens right now if we outnumbered them?"

"No. I'm not taking any chances, and having more people means more room for error. We need everyone alive right now and I'm not going to risk that by having them stay." Out of the corner of her eye, Rose could see the three retreating back to the parking lot. "I want them safe, you hear?" Jack yelled in their general direction. When they heard the sound of an engine roaring to life and driving off, Rose breathed a sigh of relief. It made her feel better to know that her parents were okay for now. "Alright, everyone. Keep your eyes focused, no blinking, you know the drill. Sparrow, with me." The two moved off to the side to discuss their plan.

A familiar hand slipped into Rose's. Mickey. She smiled, stepping closer to him and weaving her fingers with his. It was nice to know he would always be right there next to her side when she needed him.

"What are we going to do?" Mickey asked. For the first time in a very long time, Rose realized, he sounded very, very scared. And he had every right to be. Those angels, standing mere feet away, had the power to kill them all. They were all facing the possibility of never seeing each other again, and she was scared, too. But they were still standing, hand in hand, and not blinking even in the face of death.

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, she spoke, trying to sound more confident than she actually was. "We do what we have to do. We fight."

It was a few more minutes before Jack and Sally returned, standing just behind Rose. "Listen up, everyone. We need to get into a circle and get them to surround us."

"Excuse me!" Mickey scoffed. "You actually _want_ them to surround us?"

"Yes," Sally answered in her soft, kind voice. "It's the only way to stop them."

The four stepped into place next to Rose and Mickey so that they made a straight line. Jack was the one to give the first command. "On my count, then, we all blink. Quick as you can," he ordered. "We'll try our best to keep them at a safe enough distance to work with."

"That sounds reassuring," Mickey spoke under his breath, until Rose nudged him in the side to get him to shut up.

"Ready? One…" Jack paused. "Two…" Rose inhaled deeply. "Three!" She shut her eyes gratefully but opened them again as fast as possible. Sure enough, the statues had now moved a couple feet forward across the open field, two of them with their hands down from their faces, baring their sharp teeth. "Again, now, here we go! One, two, three!" They blinked again, and another few feet were lost between them and the angels. They repeated this four more times, the aliens creeping closer each time they closed their eyes. Finally, Jack deemed it time for them to circle up. They formed a tiny ring, shoulder to shoulder. Rose still hadn't let go of Mickey's hand. Jack and Sally both began shouting out names, telling one or two people to blink at a time, and slowly, the statues started to encircle them. There was exactly one person to each angel now, and the one in front of Rose sent chills up her spine. Its eyes were blank, but it had its mouth open and its slender fingers reaching out towards Rose. Clutching Mickey's hand tighter and fighting to keep her eyes open, she awaited the next order.

Rose was surprised when she heard laughter. "Yes! Perfect." It was Jack, and he was most definitely celebrating. But exactly what he was celebrating, Rose had no idea.

"Oi, what the hell are you on about? We're surrounded by killer statues and you're laughing?" Mickey shouted.

"On three, everyone, I want you to duck." Sally spoke again in her calm and collected demeanor. "Close your eyes and duck. Ready?" Rose was not ready. She had no clue how this was supposed to work out. If they closed their eyes, the angels would be able to move, and they were only inches away. If the statues got any closer, they were completely screwed. "On my count. One, two, three!"

There wasn't even time to think about it. Rose dropped to the ground, eyes shut, waiting to be grabbed by the alien and transported back to die in some other world. But she felt no such thing. Opening one of her eyes just a crack, she peeked up at the statue that had been reaching for her. It was frozen in place. So was the one next to it. Glancing around, she realized that all six of them were immobile. Mickey was still holding her hand, she realized. So the Angels hadn't taken him. There was more laughter, and she finally opened her eyes fully and did a quick count. Six. Everyone was there, alive and safe. Sally and Larry were hugging, sitting together on the grass. Jack was already wiggling his way out between two of the frozen statues, a giant grin on his face as he helped Gwen out, and Mickey just sat, looking stunned. "What the _hell_," he whispered.

"We did it!" Jack shouted. "We got 'em!"

Sally smiled at Rose as she looked around the circle. "Don't stand up. Can't let them break eye contact with each other." Ah, so that's how it worked. Now Rose remembered reading that the only way to defeat them was to make them look at each other. "These angels won't be taking any more people for a very, very long time." They all crawled out of the ring, sharing embraces and congratulations and laughter.

"So what do we do about them now?" Rose asked.

Larry winked at her. "Nothing. They become an old monument in a desolate graveyard. No one thinks to ask questions. As long as no one touches them or moves them, the problem is solved."

They walked back to the cars that were parked in front. Rose waited with Gwen and Mickey while Jack talked with the chubby police officer briefly. He strutted back to them with his hands in his pockets, a spring in his step now that they had one task down. "Good job, everyone," he said as he unlocked the car. "Now, let's get out of here. We've got work to do."

* * *

As Jack drove back to Powell Estate, he drowned out the noise of Rose and Mickey in the backseat talking with Gwen about their work at Torchwood. He was only thinking of one thing: the Doctor. Jack was glad he had left the Doctor when he had, or Rose would have found them and it would have ruined everything. At least that's what the Doctor had told him. He wasn't exactly sure why the Doctor didn't want Rose to see him just yet. Maybe it had something to do with the strange visions Rose was having. Or maybe he was just being stubborn—after all, he was known to do that. Either way, Jack was glad he heard the whirring of the TARDIS' engines when he was coming up those stairs and into the chapel. It made him feel a lot better that the Doctor knew what was happening and was helping them try to stop it, even if the rest of them didn't know. Jack laughed to himself. Maybe Rose had been right.

Maybe there was an angel watching over them.


End file.
